Stiles Lost
by Thousandsmiles
Summary: Stiles was stolen from his parents when he was a baby. Now years later he turns up in Beacon Hills to find his real parents, three days after Scott gets bitten. The two become friends and Stiles uses his knowledge of the preternatural, gained in those missing years, to help the hopeless Scott survive, while he struggles to overcome crushing grief. No Slash.* On hiatus*
1. Pilot 1

**Hey so this is just something I'm trying. If you all want me to continue, please tell me because I'm not sure if to do so. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

My name is Stiles. Just Stiles. It used to be Stiles Dwenner but that's not real either. The Dwenners had stolen me from my real parents when I was a baby and ran away with me. I found out when I was thirteen and I ran from them. Smack straight into some of the craziest, unbelievable stuff ever. And I met some people and we became friends, and then family and then I finally, officially joined the pack. Because that's what they were, a human pack. A group of humans together modeled after a werewolf pack mostly, but a lot more cuddly and fluffy.

A human pack is an interesting non-preternatural addition to the preternatural world, that is accepted by the preternatural world. Human packs are there for medical emergencies for preternaturals, for research if anyone wants it, to point newly turned preternaturals towards packs or seethes ect. If they need it. They're also used as a sort of neutral ground between groups of disputing preternaturals. They're pretty important sometimes and are usually well protected by the groups that use their services. Until of course they're not. Until those groups are too far away for them to help you. Until you're the only one left alive and you're just a bleeding hollowed out shell with just a little too much will to live to just let yourself die even if you want to so desperately.

So I'm Stiles and I had nowhere to go. I didn't know where to go or what to do because the only people in the world I cared about were dead and I just couldn't let myself die and be done with it. So eventually I did what I had originally been planning to do when I first ran from the Dwenners. I went to find my parents.

Which I how I'm here, crossing the Fence and standing on the edge of the town called Beacon Hills. I had laughed my first laugh in weeks, when I found out where I was from because it had seemed so appropriate. I had heard of Beacon Hills even on the other side of the Fence. Who hadn't? The place had a crazy history even though it was rather quiet these days. But now I'm here and going to find the man who was my father and hopefully not give him a heart attack by just turning up out of the blue.

I sighed, watching the town. I didn't know what I was doing here either. I just needed a place to be. I wasn't even nervous about going down. I was still hollowed out and empty except for the times when pain and loss would just fill me up and I would literally double over with how much it hurts. I took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts away from my mind, tossed some adderall down my throat and started walking.

* * *

_Three days before._

Three days earlier Scott McCall was getting a ride back from his evening job with Sherriff Stilinksi when the sheriff got the dispatch about the body in the woods. It was urgent so the sheriff gave Scott an apologetic look before he turned the car in the direction of the preserve. They arrived at the preserve and Scott was given strict orders to stay in the car and then the Sherriff got out and went through the woods to crime scene. Scott waited obediently in the car for half an hour before he got really tired of sitting in the car and got out. Fifteen minutes later Scott got tired of just standing and made his way over to where the sheriff and the other officers were.

"Scott!" said Sherriff Stilinski "I thought I told you to stay in the car."

"It was getting really stuffy in there," Scott said, giving him puppy dog eyes.

"The windows were down," said the Sheriff, not buying the eyes for a moment.

Scott sighed. "I just got tired of waiting and I've never seen a dead body before." He glanced at the sheet covered body still on the ground.

The Sherriff sighed and relented, saying, "And you still haven't. Now get back to the car, we're leaving now anyway."

Scott pouted and turned to go back to the car when the wind blew and brought the stench from the dead body over to him. Scott gagged and coughed and then found that he couldn't breathe. He pulled out his inhaler and took a puff. He waited for a moment and then took another one. After that his breathing evened out. He hastily shoved the inhaler into his jacket pocket and headed back to the car.

After a few minutes the Sherriff came over and got into the car. He dropped Scott home and said, "Scott, tell your mom I won't be able to make it for dinner tonight. I have to go back out to the preserve."

"Why?" asked Scott, "I mean, didn't you all get all the evidence you need?"

The Sheriff sighed, "Not exactly. What you saw wasn't the whole body."

Scott gaped at him. "It was half a body?"

"And you're going to keep quiet about that," the Sheriff warned him.

"Oh, yeah, sure," said Scott, "Thanks for the lift, Sheriff."

"Not a problem, Scott." Sherriff Stilinski pulled away from the driveway leaving Scott behind.

Scott, determined to make this year different, set about making sure that everything ready for school tomorrow. He finished fairly early, had dinner with his mom and then went upstairs intent on getting a good night's sleep before the first day. After all he had to get into first line this year. He went to shower before going to sleep and it was only when he was halfway undressed that he remembered that he had put his inhaler in his jacket pocket. He fished the jacket of the floor and rooted around in the pockets only to come up empty. Scott stared at the jacket and then stuck his head into his room to see if he had taken it out and put in anywhere. There was no sign of it. With a sinking heart Scott realized where his inhaler must be. Out in the preserve, where he must have missed his pocket and dropped it on the ground. His mom was going to kill him.

* * *

_Present_

It was dark when I finally reached the house where my dad lived. I went up to the door and knocked nervously. After a few minutes the door opened and a thin, middle aged man opened the door. He frowned at me, obviously confused as to who I was and what I was doing there.

"Sheriff Stilinski?" I asked.

"Yes. How may I help you?"

"Well, ahh, that's kind of awkward. But, uh, you had a son, like sixteen years ago. And, he got kidnapped when he was a baby."

"Yes," said the Sheriff, even more confused, even though Stiles could see the pain in his eyes at the mention of the missing child. It was strangely comforting.

"Well, um, that's, uh, the child…"

"What about him?" asked the Sherriff, trying to keep calm.

"He's me," I said.

There was a pause and then the Sherriff said, "What?" very calmly.

"Your son," I said, "He's me. The Dwenners stole me when I was a baby. I found out and did some research and it lead me here."

"You're saying you're my son?"

"Yes. At least I think so."

The Sherriff blinked a few times and said, "I think you better come inside."

* * *

_Sherriff POV_

The Sherriff opened the door and let the strange boy shuffle inside. One part of his mind was watching the boy, analyzing him, while the other part of his mind screamed and whirled. Questions ran through his mind and hope and fear clashed together and then tore apart. The Sherriff decided to pick his rational mind over the emotional one right now. That way he could function.

The boy was of average height for a teenager, pale skinned with light brown eyes. He wore baggy clothes over a rather gangly frame but when he moved the Sheriff noted that he was made up of lean muscle rather than just being thin. He moved awkwardly but always seemed to notice his surroundings. He had a pack on his back and excluded and air of sadness. If he had just seen him on the road the Sherriff would have tagged him both as runaway and future felon.

He stopped just inside the doorway and waited for the Sheriff to tell him where to go. The Sherriff closed the door and led him into the living room. They both sat somewhat awkwardly on the couches and the Sherriff couldn't help but think that awkward was the name of the game today.

"So," said the Sherriff, to break the silence, "What's your name?"

"Stiles," said the boy.

"They named you Stiles?" the Sherriff asked frowning.

"No," said Stiles, "I did."

"Oh," said the Sheriff. "What did they call you?"

"Bryon Dwenner," Stiles replied.

"I see."

"But I don't go by that," Stiles added.

"Okay. So you're saying that you're my son. And you mentioned some research. Do you mind if I asked what research lead you did?"

The Sherriff watched as Stiles tensed a little. "I did a search. For missing babies at the time I was taken. And from area that I was taken. Well as close as I could. The Dwenners didn't want to tell me the exact place. They had baby pictures, I compared them with the pictures you placed up. This was the closest match. "

"I see. That's, that's good."

"We'll still have to check," said Stiles, in the same sort of monotone he had used all evening. The Sherriff watched him carefully and noticed the flash of grief in his eyes. He frowned but said:

"Sure," out loud. "So when did you find out about the Dwenners?" he continued. In his mind he was already hunting down the Dwenners and charging them with everything he could.

"Um," said Stiles, "Thirteen."

Stilinksi sat up and stared at him, took what he had observed and then asked slowly , "Stiles, did you run away from the Dwenners when you were thirteen?"

Stiles stared up at him in shock and then the shock turned to rueful, amused, acknowledgement.

"Yes," he admitted.

"So you've been on your own all this time?" The Sheriff demanded, feeling anger and pain and guilt all rage inside him.

"No!" Stiles shot out and then looked surprised at himself. He closed his eyes and forcefully calmed himself. "No," he said again softly, "But I am alone now." And there was all that grief and pain whirling around him again.

It hit the Sherriff suddenly that his boy had a lot of problems and a complicated past. Of course he would have.

"Stiles," he said gently, "What happened?"

But Stiles just glanced at him, with eyes that had a light, watery sheen and shook his head.

"Did they hurt you?"

He shook his head violently. "No, they didn't. They, " he choked and stopped, "They were my family."

It didn't escape the Sherriff that he was speaking about them in past tense. But he knew he couldn't push. Not today and not with the boy almost a complete stranger. He would bet his jacket that Stiles had already said more than he meant to.

"Well," said the Sherriff getting up, "How about we get some dinner and then you can bed down here for the night if you want to." He secretly prayed that this wasn't some elaborate heist and he would get knifed in the back while he slept. If he slept tonight.

Stiles knuckled at his eyes and then nodded.

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_**R&amp;R Please! I would love the feedback!**_


	2. Pilot 2

**Hey so this is the second chapter. I hope it is going okay!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

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_Two days ago._

Scott was half drooling over Allison, half thinking about preparing to try out for the lacrosse team despite the bite in his side. He walked on to the lacrosse field only to be accosted by the coach sending him into goal.

What followed were the most amazing moments of his life. It was like he had all the time in the world to catch the ball. He finally understood the meaning of hand-eye coordination and he felt healthier than he ever had in his entire life. No breaths stuck in his chest, to desire to wheeze afflicted him, he was good, he was great, he was better than that.

After tryouts he called the Sherriff to tell him that he wouldn't need a ride that day and bike his way to the preserve, intent on finding his inhaler which he still hadn't found. He was a bit preoccupied what with being bitten with a wolf and all.

Part of him was still wary of going back after everything but he really had to get that inhaler. He walked through the forest intent on the scents and sounds surrounding him which he had never noticed before. It was amazing and scary bit Scott couldn't help but love it a little.

He reached where he had seen the second half of the body, and consequently dropped his inhaler a second time. He rummaged around in the leaves, muttering to himself,

"I hope I didn't lose it. Those things cost like 80 bucks." A crackling sound alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone. He spun around so fast; he thought his head might still keep spinning. What faced him was almost as scary as the wolf he had feared it would be. A young man in a dark leather jacket was walking towards him.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Huh?"

Scott stared at him dumb folded for a moment and the man added. "This is private property."

"Uh, sorry," Scott stammered, "I didn't know. I was just looking for something but," The man's demeanor clearly said he wouldn't care. "It doesn't matter," Scott finished. His tone clearly intoned Jerk.

The man just as clearly didn't care. But he did take Scott's inhaler out of his jacket pocket and tossed it to him. Scott caught it in surprise but before he could say anything the man was already walking away.

He turned away and headed to his bike because h needed to pelt it to wok or else he'd be late. He was halfway there when he remembered who the man was.

"Shoot," he said, "Derek Hale."

* * *

_Present._

The Sherriff didn't sleep that night and neither had I. So when the sun peeked its way over the horizon I got up and went into the kitchen and started breakfast. And coffee. Don't forget the coffee.

I needed things to do to distract me from the lack of sounds in the morning that always accompanied a waking pack, and making breakfast was a good way to that. At least it was when I remembered that Thursdays were always my days to cook breakfast. Then that kicked in the gut feeling returned and found myself on the ground rapidly gasping in and out and trying not to cry and trying to ignore the feeling that said run, run, RUN! The sound of the eggs crackling and burning brought me out of it and I launched myself off the floor and scraped them off into a plate and then stood there for awhile spatula in hand.

"I see you started breakfast."

The calm, quiet voice had me spinning around and preparing to throw the spatula before I registered that it was the Sherriff.

"Ye-Yeah," I managed to choke out. We both looked at the plate of burned eggs.

"I guess that's mine," I said, and moved to crack some new ones.

"How do you like yours?"

"Scrambled," said the Sherriff as he moved over to the coffee pot. I made the eggs and tried to ignore the fact that he most likely had known what I had planned to do with the spatula. I finished the eggs and dug into the fridge for the broccoli. I washed some of it, separated it and steamed it with some spices and black pepper.

The Sherriff set the table and by the time he was done, so was the broccoli. I set the broccoli in the middle of the table and scraped the burned eggs into the plate and took some of the broccoli too. The Sherriff however was looking at the broccoli with an unreadable expression on his face. Well unreadable for most people.

"Eat it," I commanded, "It is good for you. Besides you're a middle aged man and you should keep you cholesterol down."

He blinked at that. Opened his mouth to say something and then closed it, wordlessly took some of the broccoli. We ate in silence, much like the night before. Conversation was understandably awkward.

When breakfast was over however, the Sherriff broke it by asking if I was comfortable going to get tested today. I said sure because it was best for both of us if we knew early. The Sherriff nodded and after I had showed and changed, we got into the cruiser heading for the lab wheel the testing would be done. The Sherriff pulled off and I pulled out my adderall and popped one into my mouth and dry swallowed.

"What is that?" the Sherriff asked, carefully keeping his voice un-accusing.

"Adderall," I replied, "I have ADHD, so I need it."

"Ahh," said the Sherriff and concentrated on the road. His grip on the steering wheel whitened though.

* * *

_Sherriff POV_

The last time the Sherriff had felt so completely lost and useless was when Stiles had first been taken away from him. He hadn't slept and yet still he had missed the sounds of the boy going downstairs. He had decided to dress first before going down and had come down to find Stiles staring off in the distance, spatula in hand. When he spoke though, he had seen Stiles' muscles bunch and knew that he was going to throw the spatula but then almost as fast the boy recognized him and stopped. The whole thing had happened so fast the spatula had only moved an inch before stopping.

Something about the whole thing had sent the Sherriff into a rage because what king of a life had this boy been living so that his startle response was to use anything at hand as a weapon and be good at it? So he had turned his gaze to something else lest Stiles see the anger there and the first thing his eyes had landed on was the plate of burned eggs.

And they told their own story. The Sherriff didn't think the boy who noticed everything about his surroundings would let a skillet of eggs burn. No. Something had happened.

The broccoli and the accompanying statements were a surprise. For a brief moment the Sherriff saw something that was different than anything that Stiles had shown him. For a moment his face was open and there was a ray of light, faint but there. Light, in this boy shrouded with gray.

Then came the shock of ADHD. He hadn't known, hadn't even witnessed any behaviour that said so, but he suspected that Stiles was telling the truth only because he was too stupid to be popping prescription drugs like candy if he didn't need it, in front of the Sherriff.

Which made the Sherriff scared because Stiles had ADHD and he didn't know, if Stiles really was his child, if he couldn't handle that. If he was qualified enough to do that. And it also made him scared because Claudia had died from a brain illness. He didn't know if ADHD was a precursor or indicator of anything. He'd find out. He'd make sure. He tightened his grip on the wheel.

The testing in the hospital lab took very little time. Some blood was drawn from both him and Stiles and that was it. They were told that results should come in, in the next three days. Which left the problem of what to do with Stiles now?

Stiles seemed to sense it because he said, "Just, put me down somewhere in town. I wouldn't mind getting a chance to explore."

But the Sherriff said, suddenly struck with a thought, "What about school? Aren't you supposed to be in school? Are there any schools you went to before that can transfer your transcript here if you need them to?"

Stiles froze and stared at him and then slowly, "I was home schooled. I- uh-I didn't go to any –uh."

"That's fine," said the Sherriff before Stiles exploded. "But I have to pick up a friend's son at school and if you want you can come and see how it is….?"

"Yeah, sure," said Stiles quickly. The Sherriff nodded and let off Stiles off at one of the malls.

* * *

It turned out that the sheriff didn't have to pick up Scott that day as Melissa was doing it so he called Stiles and picked him up at an ice-cream parlor, along with his three scoop pistachio, chocolate, peanut monstrosity.

Stiles bundled into the cruiser licking all three of the flavors together making the Sherriff feel sick just watching him.

"Do you actually like that?" the Sherriff finally asked at a stop light.

"Yeth," Stiles replied his mouth full of ice-cream. He gave the Sherriff a side look that he couldn't quite decipher.

"Well you have the stomach of the young," said the Sherriff electing to ignore the look. "How was your day?"

"Good," said Stiles, "interesting. New. Small. Big. A mix of stuff." He waved the ice-cream alarmingly. Thankfully none of it fell. Stiles bit off part of the peanut scoop and then apparently suffered a brain freeze. If the strange faces he made were anything to go by. He settled down after, apparently worn out by the brain freeze, and ate the rest of his ice-cream in peace.

When they got to the house Stiles made a beeline for the room he was given and the Sheriff went into the kitchen to start dinner. Spaghetti and meat balls didn't take very long to do and when he was finished he called Stiles down to dinner. When he got no reply and the boy didn't appear in the next five minutes, the Sherriff cautiously went upstairs and knocked on his door.

"Stiles?" he called. There was no answer but the Sherriff heard a soft scuffling sound. "Stiles are you in there? Are you okay?" There was a pause and the Stiles answered:

"Yeah, I'm fine." He most emphatically did not sound fine. He sounded like he'd been crying.

The Sherriff wanted to barge in there but held himself back. Stiles' trust in him was still very fragile. "Alright well dinner is ready," he called instead, "If you need anything call me," he added.

"….Okay," came Stile's voice sounding very small.

It broke the Sherriff's heart but he turned and walked downstairs and sat at the kitchen table staring at the food wishing he could just break down in tears too because the boy upstairs was so broken and no one that young deserved to be like that. And if Stiles really was his son, then the Sheriff's heart would really shatter because it would be his boy up there, in the dark, broken, sad and scared and that would break _him_.

Stiles came down half an hour later. He had showered and his face bore no trace of tears save slightly red eyes. The Sheriff was still sitting at the table. He had managed to serve himself but the thought of eating made him imagine that everything would taste like ashes.

Stiles looked surprised that he hadn't eaten yet but he served himself and began to mechanically spoon the food into his mouth. After a few moments the Sherriff followed his example. The food was okay.

"So Stiles," said the Sherriff, "I know you said you were homeschooled but I was wondering if you have a favorite subject?"

Stiles looked up at him and then frowned as he thought, "I like history," he said finally, "I do fairly well in all my other subjects."

"History, huh?" replied the Sherriff, "Can't say I liked it very well. I always thought it was kinda boring."

"History is important!" defended Stiles.

"I never said it wasn't," the Sherriff defended in turn.

"And how can it be boring? Did you never read about the wars and stuff? And seriously the history male circumcision is not for the faint of heart, I can tell you that," said Stiles waving his fork in the air to punctuate his point. He apparently didn't realize that some spaghetti was still entangled in it.

The Sherriff blinked. "The history of the male circumcision? I don't think I want to know."

Stiles huffed and dug into his spaghetti. Moments later though his shoulders slumped and the dark shrouds enclosed him again and the Sheriff could practically see him blaming himself for showing some life, some interest.

Survivor's guilt. That was now obviously part of what plagued Stiles. And equally obviously was the fact that the Sherriff was not in a position to help him, even to offer help. Silence fell around the table and was not broken until diner was over.

Stiles helped him wash up and then fled to his room.

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_**Some feedback would be great guys. I'd really love it for this. Thanks.**_


	3. Pilot 3

**Next Chapter! I hope you all like! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

_Present._

_Scott POV._

Scott's life both sucked and it didn't. It didn't because there was Allison. And she was going on a date with him. And she was beautiful and amazing and just everything. And then there was all the new stuff, his hearing and sense of smell, not to mention the complete lack of anything appearing like asthma. Life sucked though because he was waking up in unfamiliar places, being chased through the woods and ending up in people's pools and then getting cornered by Jackson who thought he was on freaking Steroids. But then there was Allison so that all sort of balanced out.

Today was the first elimination though and he was determined to make first line. He was tired of sitting on the sidelines. Okay, he had to admit all the strange things were freaking him out. Majorly, but for once things were working out in his favour and he had decided he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He geared up in the practice room and went out to field feeling full of energy. Seeing Allison only made things better, getting called out by coach though instantly knocked him off his floating castle. The whistle blew and everything started.

* * *

_Present- Friday._

_Stiles POV._

I spent the day exploring Beacon Hills again. It was a good way to take my mind off everything once I managed not to think about the fact that I was alone because before I would have never been alone in an unfamiliar place. I strayed around the place and eventually bought a newspaper and sat down in a coffee shop and drank coffee and read up on the news.

The news instantly interested me. A dead body in the woods, found in pieces, the Sherriff being in charge of the investigation of course. In a town notorious for once being the home of werewolves, that was extremely suspicious. There were no werewolves left in Beacon Hills. There was another pack in Beacon County but they left Beacon Hills alone. I searched a little bit online but found nothing that might help me. I could probably ask the Sherriff and see if I could get anything from him.

Towards the end of the day the Sheriff called and said that today he did indeed have to pick up the son of his friend so he would pick me up soon and then head over to the school.

I said okay and met him on the curb. Once we were on our way to the school I realized I should probably ask who this kid was before he was in the same car as me. I really didn't want to go into a panic attack or react violently if my brain suddenly thought of him as a threat, especially with him sitting behind me.

"So, who is it we're picking up?" I asked the Sherriff.

"His name is Scott," the Sherriff replied, "His mother and my wife and I were friends. She really helped out when…" He took a breath and then continued, "A few years later she and her husband divorced and so I help her out with her son when I can. He's a good kid. Been trying out for the lacrosse team but Scott has severe asthma so he doesn't get very far in that. We're going to pick him up at practice."

I nodded and tried to act like it didn't hurt that the Sherriff had someone he was taking care of, someone like a son. Breathe I told myself, you still don't for sure if you are his son and even if you are you can't expect him not to do the right thing. He is the Sherriff and from what I've seen a good man. He wouldn't not help a good friend.

I turn to look out of the window instead and watch the scenery go by. After awhile the scenery blurs and the window becomes a portal to the past and before I know it, I'm seeing them, I'm remembering, and for one moment it's okay, it's like I'm at home and nothing is wrong until I remember that the people I called home had gone down in sprays of blood and that I had sent the place that we lived up in flames.

And I can't breathe again. The pain sucker punches me. The devastating loss that I had felt when they died rolls over me, clogs my throat, clouds my senses and I'm screaming, crying, and trying to run.

Far back in my mind I hear a screech but I'm lost. I struggle for control but I can't find it. I can't find it! But then there's a voice. A voice calling my name over and over. It's warm and concerned and caring. There's love underlying it, making it tremble, making it strong. I claw my way towards it and finally come up for air.

I gasp and choke and then breathe in and out a few times. Arms surround me and rub soothing circles on my back. When I finally drag myself back all the way I realize that my face in pressed into the Sherriff's shoulder and he is hugging me while I cling to him like a little child.

The reality of the situation is mortifying to say the least. I pull away frantically and scrub at my face with both hands and kinda want to sink into the road below. The Sherriff lets me go and allows me time to compose myself before he asks quietly, "Are you okay?"

I clear my throat and chough a little and then say without raising my head, "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I-just memories, triggered me off, sorry."

"It's okay," said the Sherriff gently. "Do you want me to drop you back at the house?"

I shake my head because I just need the car to get moving and this conversation to end and if I'm really lucky the Men in Black will show up with a neuralizer and blank this out from everyone's minds, including my own.

"Can we just go pick up Scotty-boy?" I say instead.

"I don't think Scott will appreciate the nickname," the Sheriff says but he sounds amused.

"Well tough," I say but I stare out the window, this time turning my face into the breeze and counting clouds. And I try not to notice that the Sherriff's white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

By the time we reach the school, I had composed myself and the Sherriff had stopped threatening the life of the steering wheel. He led me around the buildings to the open field in the back of the school. The school looked, well, normal, like a school. It wasn't too bad though. It was comfortable.

It was the people that were the strangest thing to me. Being back in a school environment, seeing them, it brought back memories. Memories of my time with the Dwenners when I had, in fact, gone to public middle school. It felt strange to watch these kids my age go around without a care in the world except homework and dates. It was a dissociative experience so I shook m head and plled myself back out of it. The Sherriff sat down on some of the bleachers and pointed out a boy dressed in lacrosse gear.

He had brown hair and that was as much as I could really make out about him from this distance. He waved at the girl sitting next to us on the bleachers though and I could tell that e was utterly smitten with her. Hmm. The look of young love. I couldn't help but smile.

The coach was ridiculous.

Just as they were about to start practice however the Sherriff' phone rang. He grimaced and pulled it out and grimaced some more.

"It's work," he said, "I have to take it." He got up and wandered away from the bleachers just as the whistle blew. I nodded and settled in to watch because I had never seen a lacrosse game before.

Three seconds in my opinion was formed. Lacrosse was really violent. Once upon a time, in another life, I would've loved it. But my subsequent rebirth left no room for love for things like that.

I kept my attention on Scott thought, wondering how the asthmatic kid would handle being in this game. I watched Scott get his first ball and then seconds later knocked off his feet. I tensed expecting that right about now he would be scrambling for an inhaler or at least take a few steadying breaths. Nothing. Instead Scott's face scrunches up in rage and he pulls himself of the ground and goes to restart with the douchebag who knocked him off his feet.

Scott gets the ball and then starts to run. I watch as he flies past the others payers, light on his feet and quick with his hands. Then he summersaults over three payers and scores.

That is not something someone labeled as a severe asthmatic should be able to do. And judging by the look on coach and douchebag's faces that is not something Scott has ever shown capability for. Which all added up to something strange and _my life_.

Then it kind of comes together in my head. The body in the woods, dubbed an animal attack, Scott's sudden ability to do impressive physical feats, the fact of Derek freaking Hale standing hidden in the corner of the field watching Scott. Yeah werewolves were back in Beacon Hills. And Scotty-boy had gotten the bite.

_My freaking life._

* * *

Okay to be fair, most people wouldn't suddenly suspect this, but 1) this is Beacon Hills, 2) Derek Hale is a werewolf, and unless he is a pervert, the only reason he would have for paying attention to Scott would be something werewolfy 3) a body ripped in half in the woods, 4)I've been living in the preternatural world for years now, pointing newly changed werewolves and whatnot to new homes and investigating whether or not someone was changed or not so that packs can get to them before the first change sets in and they go crazy and kill people. I know the signs. Sudden ability to do stuff they couldn't before- big sign. Looks like Scotty-boy and I become friends after all.

"Hey what'd I miss?" said Sherriff Stilinski as he drops back down in the seat beside me.

"Scotty-boy made the shot and shot himself into first line."

The Sherriff's eyebrows go up comically. "What?!" he say startled.

"Maybe he's been practicing really hard," I offer in response to the incredulous look on his face. "Maybe it's just dumb luck."

The Sherriff opens his mouth to reply but at that moment Scott comes over babbling his glee over finally making the team.

The Sherriff quickly masters his face and congratulates Scott and apologizes for missing the epic shot. Scott blushes with the praise and the only word I can think of is puppy. He's like a happy, tail wagging, puppy eager to please its masters. Scott soon notices me and asks:

"Who's this?"

"Scott, this is Stiles. Stiles this is Scott," said the Sherriff. "Further explanations will be given in places which are not here. So let's get to the car okay boys?"

We both nod and head to the car. After we've been driving for a few moments the Sherriff speaks up.

"So Scott, this is Stiles. Stiles believes that he can be my missing child. We've have done a test and are awaiting results. Don't tell your mother, I will do that." Scott, whose eyes have rounded, nods wordlessly.

The Sherriff phone rings before the silence can become more awkward. He answers it, listens and grimaces.

"Boys," he said, "They need me back at the station. Scott is it alright if I drop you off at my house for awhile?"

"Oh, no. Of course not, he says quickly and sincerely.

"Thank you," said the Sherriff.

He drops us off at the house and we go in and then kind of shuffle our feet awkwardly in the living room.

"Sooo," said Scott, "Your name is Stiles?"

"Yeah," I said.

"So you really are the Sherriff's son?"

"Maybe," I say. I decided bringing up the whole werewolf thing could wait until we knew each other a little better.

Scott nods and then smiles suddenly. I blink a few times because I hadn't expected the radiant glow that his face had transformed into.

"Dude, that would be awesome if you were!"

"What?" I say startled.

"No, I mean it. Like, I've known about you my whole life you know? Because I've heard about you from my mom. And I always thought it'd be cool if they would find you. I mean if you hadn't been taken then we'd probably be like best friends or something!"

"Or we could hate each other," I said shrugging.

Scott's smile fell of his face. "Oh. Um. Do you hate me? Cause I could go…somewhere."

I blink and then say hastily, "No. No I don't hate you. I was…just stating a fact. I do that. A lot sometimes. Without thinking. I have ADHD, and sometimes my mind just goes off on a tangent."

"Oh," said Scott. He looked relieved. "So um, I don't really know what to say," he finished helplessly.

I smile. "The awkwardness is like an icebuilder right?"

Scott smirked and said, "We could get a zamboni."

"But that's not going to break the ice," I protested.

"No, but it will smooth things over."

We stare at each other and then simultaneously crack up.

When we finally get a hold of ourselves I poke Scott in the ribs and say, "So who was the pretty brunette you were waving at?"

Scott flushes and the world goes uphill from there.

I don't even notice the loss that is my usual companion as we chatted. Too suddenly caught up in Scott's warmth and the feeling like I've found a piece of myself I was missing all along. I was surrounded in the bubble of our bond .The world fell away and there was just us.

* * *

_**So Scott and Stiles finally meet.**_

_**R&amp;R Please!**_


	4. Pilot 4

**Hope you all enjoy this one!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

Scott was late to work because he forgot the time and the Sherriff was late to pick him up. When they left I went upstairs to my room and flopped on the bed feeling high and content. I lay like that for a few minutes and then dug into my pocket for my phone to call the others and tell them about Scott. I was about to press the call button when it dawned on me what I was going to do. I froze and then flung my phone across the room. I sat up and gripped my head in my hands, my fingers tugging as hard they could on the stubble. That was unsatisfactory so I turned my nail on my arms instead. Long welts rose in their wake. Then the pillows went flying and the duvet, I almost threw the lamp until I remembered that it didn't below to me. That thought brought me out of my rage and I was suddenly left tired and worn out and hollow.

That was the second time today I had lost it. I dragged the chair over to the window and rested my head and forearms on the sill and stared out at the sky where dusk was rapidly falling. I took a deep breath of the cooling air and sighed. It doesn't usually creep up on me so much especially in an unfamiliar place.

I retrieved my phone which was thankfully not broken and was about to slip it back into my pocket when the date caught my eye. I stared at it and then checked my calendar and let out a bark of laughter. Oh. Today was the full moon. That was why I was like this today.

Human packs were modeled after a wolf pack but we had no connection to the full moon. However on a full moon we went on the prowl too. It was the most fun night. Most dangerous too, but that was the preternatural world. Anyways we sort of subconsciously had pegged that night as our night to de-stress. So when the full moon rolls around, it's about that time that we are carrying the most pressure. No wonder I was flipping out. I give another huff of laughter because this is the first time I have actually forgotten the date of a full moon. I sigh and rest my head back on the windowsill. There would be no going out for me tonight. Just like the last few months.

I tilt my head and look at the first star winking at me. Then suddenly I remember. Scott. The full moon. His date with Allison. The fact that this was most likely his first change.

"My life!" I yell and then try to remember where it was he had told me that the party was because like idiots we hadn't exchanged numbers.

* * *

I didn't remember where the party was but I did remember whose party it was. Lydia Martin. There was more than one Martin household so I was forced to hack the school computer records to get her address. Then I went over to Scott's house, (he had actually told me where he lived), but it was too late he was already gone. So I misappropriated his bike instead and rode all the way to the party.

I got there in time to see Scott jump into a car and drive off. Many bad words were said. I turned the bike around and headed after him. Just before I did I saw Allison staring after the car and then Derek Hale approaching her. Probably to cover for Scott. Sure enough he did and offered he a ride home. I ignored them. Someone had to stop Scotty-boy from killing people and he obviously wasn't going to do it. Hopefully there wasn't another werewolf waiting for Scott at home because they were doing a shoddy job of handling a non-consenting-newly-changed-werewolf.

When I reached to his house there was no one lurking in the shadows. I went inside cautiously but then abandoned caution when I heard the sound of heavy, panicked breathing from upstairs. I ran upstairs and banged on the door. The loud noise should shock him out of his panic over the change and would get his attention.

"Go away," came his voice sounding weak and shaken.

"Scott it's me," I announced.

The door opened a little bit but when I pushed, h pushed back.

"Let me in Scott I can help!" I told him.

"No!" he said, "I don't even know what's happening! You can't come in!"

"You're a werewolf Scott!" I told him, "Now let me in I can help you!"

"A what?!" he sounded very confused. I was prepared to go through the whole werewolves are real spiel but Scot surprised me, "No. Listen you have to find Allison."

"She's fine," I told him, "I saw her get a ride from the party, she's totally fine alright." Seriously, the stories they told about young love really were real. You tell a guy he's a werewolf and he starts worrying about his almost girlfriend.

"No I think I know who it is!" he said. His voice was starting to get raspy as he struggled to hang on to his human shape.

"Who?...Just let me in! We can talk about…"

"It's Derek!" he interrupted me, "Derek Hale's the werewolf. He's the one that bit me. He's the one that killed the girl in the woods! He was at the party!" Oh that was why he was worried about Allison.

"Derek Hale?"I asked.

"Yes!" he said.

Well that made me re-evaluate everything. It had never occurred to me that Derek Hale was an alpha. I had known him to be a beta, but if the girl in the woods had been an alpha and he had killed her….then yes he would be an alpha. That might explain why there were no pack members waiting for Scott here. There was no pack.

"Scott," I said without thinking, "Derek is the one who drove Allison from the party."

The door slammed shut and locked. I cursed in my head.

"Scott?!" I slammed a hand on the door

Stupid, stupid idiot! Why did I say that? Derek wasn't going to do anything to her. It would cause too much of a ruckus especially after the death of the previous alpha.

The sounds of Scott scuffling around the room and then the roof. A body thudded onto the ground beneath and the sound of a werewolf growling came to my ears. I hurried downstairs but before I reached there Scott howled. Oh of course, there is the sound of a super macho, pissed off, in love, apex predator. My night just keeps getting better and better.

Scott was gone by the time I got outside. I stood there thinking. Derek might have carried Allison home from the party as a gesture of good will to his reluctant beta. Or….her scent. It might draw Scott and that would keep him where Derek wanted him. Derek probably stole something of hers when he carried he home. Maybe a jacket or scarf.

Still it wouldn't hurt to check and make sure she was okay. I sighed and got back onto Scott's bike.

* * *

After several embarrassing moments I had found that Allison was indeed okay. I got back on the bike and headed back home. It was no use trying to look for Scott now. I doubted there would be any bloodshed tonight. Still too close to the original death and what I knew of the Hales had always held them to be honorable. So any killing would probably be of some small animal. If Derek could get Scott to not to kill him for apparently harming Allison.

Maybe Derek wasn't the same as the older Hales but some of that had to have rubbed off. Perhaps the alpha he had killed hadn't been a good one and he had come here to take care of it instead of letting such an alpha take over his old family territory.

I dropped Scott's bike back at his house and walked all the way back to the Sheriff's house and sneaked back in. I dropped down into my bed totally exhausted. Note to self: riding a bike is a good enough workout for the full moon.

* * *

_Scott POV._

Scott's life sucked. Because first he got sick at the party, ditched Allison, grew claws, fangs and a furry makeover, got told he was a fricking werewolf(!), something he and Stiles had to talk about, went into a killing rage for Derek Hale, got saved by him instead after he got shot with a fricking crossbow! Because Hunters! Because werewolves are real because Derek confirmed it was.

Scott kinda wanted to cry. Then he had to walk home. He was walking for half an hour before he realized that his phone was still in his pocket. He grimaced, pulled it out and stared at it hopefully because he had totally forgotten it was in there when he had gone into the tub. The screen was blank. He sighed, opened it up and dried out the pieces on his pants, flung out water droplets and put it back together. Nothing. He kept walking. It was almost dawn when he tried the phone again. This time time it came on.

He almost cried out in happiness instead he went to dial his mom and then stopped. How was he going to explain this? He wanted to call Stiles but didn't know his number. He deliberated ad then called the Sherriff's landline instead and hoped desperately that Stiles picked up the phone instead.

"Hey Scotty-boy," came Stiles' voice over the phone.

"Stiles!" he yelled in surprise. "How did you know it was me?"

"Who else would be calling the landline at this hour? You don't have my number. Need pickup?"

"Can you arrange that?"

"Sure," said Stiles, "where are you?"

"On the preserve road," Scott told him.

"Cools," said Stiles and the phone clicked off.

* * *

_Stiles POV._

Scotty-boy was damn lucky. I rented a car and went driving down the preserve road and tried not to think about how familiar all of this was. I'd done enough pickups before for this to feel like home and right now I didn't want to think of home.

I found him walking dejectedly along the road holding his arm. I pulled up and he came over tiredly and got inside. I handed him the jacket and he pulled it over himself and then stared dejectedly out the window.

"You know what actually worries me the most,' he said suddenly.

"If you say Allison," I told him, "I'm gonna punch you in the head."

"She probably hates me now!" he moaned.

"Huyuh," I mutter, then sighed mentally and tried to cheer him up, "I doubt that," I said. It was true. I had seen her look at him. She was about as smitten as he was. "But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology. Or you could tell the truth and revel in the fact that you're a werewolf!" I finished jokingly.

He stared at me. Right. Too soon for those kind of jokes. Or with Scott he could take it seriously. Hopefully not.

"Which reminds me," he said, "How did you know I was a werewolf? How do you know about werewolves? I never said anything about what was happening to me. You didn't even know I had gotten bitten."

"Well the severe asthmatic decided to do awesome feats on the lacrosse filed which he wasn't supposed to be able to do," I reminded him.

"Dude, most people don't watch that and suddenly decide werewolf," Scott told me.

"Fair enough," I replied, "Well for one I knew about werewolves from before. Secondly there was Derek Hale standing like a pedophile and watching you and I knew he was a werewolf."

"Wait you knew!?"

"That he was a werewolf? Yep. The Hales were pretty famous as a werewolf family and pack."

"And you didn't tell me I was a werewolf either!" Scott said, forehead crinkling as he got angry.

"Okay to be honest," I said, "I was going to tell you but I thought that it might be better if we got to know each other a little more before I brought you the whole, you're a werewolf sort of thing okay? But I kinda didn't know that yesterday was the full moon."

"You didn't know?!" said Scott angrily. And I knew it was just left over from the full moon but I lost it too.

"Yes dammit!" I said and slammed my hand on the dash.

Scott looked surprised, all the anger draining out of him.

"For the first time in my life I didn't know when a full moon was okay?! And I failed you and it was my fault okay?! I get that!" I snapped, too chained up to stop. The whole morning was already too stressful for me.

"I'm sorry," said Scott softly, sincerely.

I came to an abrupt halt.

I sighed and came to a stop on the side of the road and rubbed my hands over my face and then rested my head on the steering wheel.

Scott's hand rested tentatively on my back and rubbed soothingly for a few moments.

"It's not your fault," he said after a moment, "And you didn't fail me. You didn't have to do anything but you came and tried to help me. Thank you."

I sighed and then sat up. "Sorry," I said, "I didn't mean to…"

"Act like a normal person?" Scott finished for me. "Dude we've barely known each other but even I can tell that you're hiding something big and you're struggling not to let it show."

"And I've obviously done a poor job of that," I said bitterly.

"You shouldn't have to!" Scott protested.

I snarled at him. He blinked surprised but I spoke before he could react further, "You don't know anything about me! If I show how I am I will shatter! These walls I put up, they're to hold me up and keep you out! You don't know me! You can't understand! You don't know what it's like…" I trailed off and dropped my head on the steering wheel.

"Help me understand," he said stubbornly.

"You can't," I said, suddenly drained.

"Well can I help?" he asked instead.

I wanted to laugh and tell him that no one could help but the words choked in my throat. I remembered yesterday afternoon. The bumble of warmth, Scott's bright smile, the connection we shared that I didn't want to deny. I sighed.

"Maybe," I said, "But I don't know how." I lifted my head and looked at him.

"Well how about you leave that to me?" he suggested, "And you can help me with all of this." He gestured to all of him.

The moment felt significant, like starting over again. Like a something incredible was going to happen. Very much like another day when something incredible did happen. But the memory didn't make me sad. It made me feel excited, adventurous.

So I smiled and said, "Sure."

His bright smile came back out.

"We'll get through this," he said.

"Yeah," I said still smiling. "And If I have too, I'll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once, I could do it."

He gave me an amused-incredulous look and I grinned at him. Everything was going to be alright.

* * *

_**End of Pilot!**_

_**R&amp;R Please! Should I still continue and do the rest of the episodes?**_


	5. The Weekend 1

**Here's the start of the first sub-ep. Hope you all enjoy it. Thanks to all my reviewers. You guys make me happy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

_Stiles POV._

The Sherriff was waiting for me when I got home. I was expecting this but I didn't have much of an explanation for my disappearance the night before or the early morning or the rented car. Oh well. I knew I could play the 'we don't know if you're my father so you don't have any authority over me' card but I didn't want to do that. I….I wanted him to like me, to want me. So I sighed and got out of the car and went inside.

"Good morning," I told him.

"Good morning," he replied. He waited a beat and then said, "Felt like an early morning drive?"

"Um yeah," I said. He nodded and then said, "Answering my phone as well?"

I frowned momentarily confused and then realized that he must have heard the phone ring hen Scott had called. "Oh!" I said, "Scott called. We hadn't exchanged numbers and he wanted to make sure I had gotten home from the party he invited me to."

The Sherriff's eyebrows rose. "A party? Scott went to a party? He invited you?"

"Yeah," I said and then smirked a little, "Her name is Allison and you did not hear that from me."

The Sherriff gains understanding and smiles a little bit but then his face turns serious, "Stiles please tell me you weren't out all night last night. Now I know I can't tell you anything but there is still a killer running out there and I want you kids to be safe….."

"I wasn't out all night last night," I cut him off. "I came home and went to sleep. I got up a little before Scott called. I'm _fine_."

* * *

_Sherriff POV._

It was like watching the gray shrouds swirl around and cover him over again. For a few moments there was light in the boy. But when 'fine' came out of his mouth he was anything but. There was guilt and pain again, the grief, the loss. It made the Sheriff want to pull him into his arms and hug him. But he couldn't. It was also a reminder that someone had loved his boy before, cared enough about him to nag him about his safety. The Sherriff wondered idly if he could ever compete with their memory and become a thing apart; if his concern would ever one day not bring up bad memories.

For a moment Stiles just stood there like a statue albeit one that was hollow before turning and moving rapidly up the stairs to his room.

The Sheriff sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This was going to be very hard.

The Sheriff made breakfast before he left and went up to Stiles room to see if he could get him to eat something. He knocked on the door and then when a voice told him to come in, he did. What greeted him was not what he expected.

Stiles was in the midst of some motion, moving slowly, shifting from stance to stance. It looked kind of like tai chi but wasn't. It was too sharp, too harsh, not meant to be peaceful unless done ridiculously slowly, the way Stiles was doing it.

The Sherriff watched as Stiles rocked back and allowed his body to fall backwards. He rolled coming up on his hands, legs extending out and smoothly tracing an arc over his head before resting on the ground. The Sheriff couldn't help but compare this boy to the one who had walked in awkwardly into his house and who had been shuffling about equally awkwardly for the last few days. He had known that the boy was made up of lean muscle but hadn't expected him to be so graceful. Those were the movements of someone who knew how to _move, _someone who had fantastic control over his body.

The Sherriff couldn't help but wonder all over again, just what had happened to his son in all those years? Where had he learned to move like that and why? He had a feeling that Stiles learned a lot just because he could but there was something awfully practical about the motions.

Also, despite Stiles' carefully blank face the Sherriff could see that doing this hurt him. Something about it hurt him badly enough that he couldn't hide it. But he was still doing it. Which meant that this, whatever it was, was important enough that Stiles wouldn't give it up, despite the pain it caused him. This was purely practical and the Sherriff really didn't want to think about the implications.

"What is it?" said Stiles. The Sherriff realized abruptly that he had been standing here without saying anything.

He cleared his throat and said, "Um, breakfast. It's on the table. You should eat something."

Stiles looked at him and nodded and the depressed, terribly sad teenager who had walked through his door was back. The light was gone.

"I'll see you later," the Sheriff told him and Stiles simply nodded again and continued his motion. The Sherriff left and pulled close his door gently. He went made his way to his cruiser and then just sat there for a few moments staring and then rested his head on the steering wheel, not unlike Stiles earlier.

"Claudia," he said, "What am I going to do?"

* * *

_Stiles POV_

Breakfast was French toast and a fruit salad. I ate it and then spent the rest of the morning watching the last of the Saturday cartoons and streaming random movies. Around two o' clock Scott showed up with what appeared to be his breakfast in hand.

"Hey," he said grinning at me.

"Hey," I said. I added to his sandwich, "Breakfast?"

Scott nodded taking a big bite. "I got up like fifteen minutes ago and cycled all the way here."

"I appreciate your momentous sacrifice," I told him sagely.

He gave me a look and nudged me with his shoulder. "What are you watching?"

I glanced at the screen. "Bride with the White Hair."

Scott blinked. "I've never even heard of that."

I shrugged. "Neither did I until like ten minutes ago."

Scott shrugged and the rest of the sandwich went down his throat.

"Is that all you brought to eat?" I asked him. He nodded and I sighed. "That's not going to fill you up. Come on let's go down to the kitchen."

Scott protested but I got up and left and he was forced to follow me. He sat at the table looking hopeless as I bustled around the kitchen.

"Soooo," he said after a few moments, "Can we talk now or do you not want to. It's okay if you don't" He added quickly. My hands stilled for a moment but I took a deep breath and said:

"Yeah, sure."

There was a palpable silence and I turned to see Scott giving me another one of his looks. I sighed.

"Look, it's never going to be easy okay? But I think we have to talk so let's just," I gestured with the knife in my hand, "talk."

He looked unhappy and then said, "Well how about you tell me how you know about werewolves?"

I took another breath and braced myself. I decided to stick to hard facts. "When I was thirteen I ran away from the Dwenners because I found out they had stolen me from my real parents. I traveled all the way to another state and city. I had come into the city at night. It was the night of the full moon and a rouge werewolf attacked me."

Scott startled. "Relax Scotty-boy," I told him, "We'll make sure that doesn't happen with you okay?" Scott nodded but looked worried. I sighed mentally and continued with my story.

"Well obviously I didn't die. I thought I was going to thought but then somebody shot him with a crossbow bolt. Actually they shot him with a lot of crossbow bolts. He tried to attack the person who had shot him but that didn't really work out so he ran away. The people who had saved me were what's called a human pack. They're a group of humans who are modeled after a werewolf pack but a lot cuddlier."

My voice hitched and I stopped to swallow hard. Hard facts I told myself.

"They took me in," I continued, "And I stayed with them for the last few years. That's how I know about werewolves."

I set the plate containing four sandwiches in front of Scott. "Eat all of that," I told him sternly. Scott stared at the plate and tried to protest. I gave him one of _my_ looks. He subsided and picked up one and started to eat.

After a few bites he said, carefully, "What happened to them?" I looked away and tired not to think of what happened to them. After a moment I turned back to him and stole his glass of water and drank half of it.

"They died," I said shortly. "They were supposed to be protected but none of our protectors reached in time. They died. I didn't. I got away." I swallowed convulsively and drank the rest of Scott's water as if it were alcohol.

* * *

_Scott POV._

Scott watched as Stiles stared blankly out of the world, gripping the glass so tightly he was afraid that it would shatter in his hands. Inside his eyes raged terrible things, terrible memories. But they didn't scare Scott. No, they just hurt him instead. He felt like he was bleeding from Stiles' wounds. And he didn't regret it. If he could take all of his wounds, all his pain from him, he would in an instant. He couldn't' do that though but he did know one thing he could do. Scott put down the sandwich and tugged the glass from his hands. Sties startled and came out of his fugue and stared at him. Scott put the glass down and then leaned over and hugged him.

For a moment Stiles was as stiff as a board. Tension, pain, memories, all held his form rigid, rejected contact, rejected care. But then slowly the stiffness left him and his arms came up and hugged Scott back. He was crying, body shaking and face buried in Scott's shoulder. Scott held him and wanted to cry too but didn't.

He lost track of how they sat there in the kitchen before Stiles stopped crying and sat up wiping his eyes. Scott leaned back and tried to ignore the crick in his back from the uncomfortable position he had been in.

"Um water?" he asked. Stiles nodded and then hiccupped. It happened so suddenly he went cross-eyed for a moment. He looked immensely annoyed.

Scott chuckled and went for the water. Stiles hiccupped three more times before Scott got the glass back to him. He gulped it down and then they both waited in anticipation for the next one. It came. Stiles let out a strangled noise and Scott, giggling, went for another glass of water.

In the end it took three glass of water for the hiccups to stop and by that time Scott was laughing and Stiles was lying sprawled out on the table feeling sick from drinking so much water at a time. He groaned.

Scott said, "Come on buddy," sympathetically and scraped Stiles of the table and deposited him in the living room couch.

He sat on the ground next to him and turned on the TV. They watched crap television for about an hour before Stiles said suddenly:

"The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse."

Scott muted the TV and twisted to look at him. Stiles gave him a weird little smile and said, "So you have to hold on to that anger you got Scotty-boy."

"I don't have a temper!" Scott protested. Stiles gave him a look.

"Not like a big one…." Stiles' look didn't change.

Scott sighed. "Fine. But it's never been a big problem for me."

"Yeah but you're a werewolf now. Werewolves have bloodlust, you know, urge to kill, so that temper you've got is going to be a little harder to hold on to now. The werewolf is an apex predator; it doesn't like anybody challenging it. All those little things that people do that pisses you off? The wolf is going to interpret that as challenge. Its response to being challenged is attacking. If it doesn't interpret it as a challenge but as a lower creature being annoying it's going to want to prove dominance and make the poor creature listen to it. So your self control skills are going to get a work out. I'll try to run interference for you but I need you fix m in your mind as a non-threat but a, a, line. Someone you listen to, or. or acknowledge, even if they're weaker than you."

Emotion's ran through Scott so fast he didn't even get a chance to identify them. He finally just blew out a breath and nodded. "I'll try."

"And Allison," Stiles said. Scott's heart instantly beat faster at the thought of her even while he was confused about why Stiles was talking about Allison.

"Your heart rate jut kicked up didn't it?" he said.

"Huh?" said Scott trying to follow the train of thought.

"When I said Allison, your heart rate went up didn't it?"

Scott nodded still wondering what this had to do with him being a werewolf.

Stiles obviously noticed because he threw up his arms and waved them around in frustration. "Alison raises your pulse Scott! The change is caused by elevated pulse."

It took Scott a few seconds but then it clicked. "You're saying I can't be with Allison?"

"I'm thinking it's not the best idea right now but I know that won't ever happen. So I'm _saying_, watch yourself with her. You're going to have to be a bit of a prude. Try to pass it off as being a gentleman. You don't need to turn into an out of control werewolf when you're with her."

* * *

_Stiles POV._

Scott looked positively horrified.

"Relax, you should learn to get this under control in a few weeks, less if we're lucky," I assured him.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, "Great," he muttered."

I gripped his shoulder and shook him, "We'll get through this," I said echoing his words to me.

At that he looked up and smiled. "Yeah." He blew out a breath. "Yeah."

* * *

**_R&amp;R Please!_**


	6. The Weekend 2

**Hey hope you all enjoy. Thanks for the reviews!**

**Disclaimer****: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

_Sherriff POV._

Around lunchtime the Sherriff made his way over to the hospital and went in searching for one Melissa McCall. He was directed to her and she saw him she smiled and said,

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Is it something to do with the body because I don't…"

He cut her off saying, "Nothing about that? I was wondering if I could have a few minutes to talk to you?"

She twisted her watch to check and said, "My lunch break is coming up in five minutes."

"Great," he said, "I'll wait for you."

Five minutes later they were seated in the corner of the lunch room. Melissa twisted her brown paper bag open and pulled out her sandwich.

"So," she said, "What is it you're wanting to talk about? Seems important."

The Sheriff sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Do you remember that particularly dark period when the baby was stolen?"

She blinked surprised by the topic but said, "How could I forget? It was terrible."

And it had been.

"I'm feeling like I'm going through it all over again. Okay not as bad but…"

Melissa frowned, "Why? What happened?"

The Sheriff blew out a disbelieving breath and said, "On Wednesday evening a kid shows up on my doorstep. Sixteen, dressed in baggy clothes, looking like a runaway and a trouble kid but so damn sad. And then he tells me he thinks I'm his father. That he was the child that was stolen."

Melissa's mouth drops open and she gasps a little.

"What?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Did you? Is it? I mean…"

"His logic in determining that I might be his father seemed pretty sound. We did a paternity test on Thursday and the results will be in tomorrow. The lab is doing me a favour."

"Do you think he really is…?"

"I don't what to think!" said the Sherriff running his hand through his hair again.

"I watch him and I can see some of Claudia in him. In his face and his fair skin but…dammit! Melissa it is so hard to see anything past his personality."

"What do you mean? Is he a terrible kid?"

"No, not at all. Well, he hasn't been with me but he has a past. Melissa, he ran away from home when he was thirteen. In the intervening time he was with some people and those people are dead. Which is why he is here. I doubt he would have arrived here if they were still around. The thing is I don't think those deaths are normal or any tragedy like, like a car accident. I think they got murdered. But he won't tell me anything. He doesn't like to think about them or else he'll cry or go into panic attacks. I don't even know where to begin an investigation and I'm pretty sure he won't tell me anything. "

"That's just," Melissa considered her words and then settled for honesty over tact, "messed up. I hate to ask but you don't think that he might have been the one who…?"

The Sherriff shook his head. "No. If you ever see him you would know he didn't do it. He loved them too much for that. He said they were his family." The Sherriff tried to ignore how much that hurt.

Melissa blew out a breath. "I don't know," she said, "Is that everything?"

The Sherriff shook his head. "He has ADHD and takes something called Adderall for it."

Melissa nodded, "That is a prescription drug for ADHD. I'll get you a full packet of information on ADHD if you want."

The Sherriff nodded his thanks and then said, "He also knows how to fight. I'm sure of it."

Melissa's eyebrows raised but she said diplomatically, "That's not entirely unusual. Lots of kids take karate classes."

"True," he said, "But he must have been taking whatever fighting style it is, - because it is definitely not karate- for a very long time. And he acts like a cop. I mean he is constantly observing everything around him unless he is having a flashback or panic attack. Oh and I think he is fond of Scott."

"Scott? He's met Scott?"

"Yes. I picked up Scott yesterday remember? Stiles was with me. When I came back he was actually talking to him and the kid hardly ever talks unless he forgets himself."

"Does Scott know who he might be?"

"Yes. I told him to let me tell you myself."

Melissa gave him a mock frown but then relented. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. If he is my son then obviously I'll take him in…"

"But if he's not?"

The Sherriff sighed. He didn't answer for a few moments and then he said apparently not answering the question, "I should be suspicious of him, at least on the basis of his almost non-existent past, but…"

Bu Melissa had been friends with him long enough to know an answer when she heard one. "But you just want to hug him don't you?"

The Sherriff looked at her and she laughed and said, "It's been all over your face through this conversation. But you have to think what to do if he isn't yours."

"Give him over to child services and see if they can help him track down his real parents. But," He scrubbed his face with his hands, "Melissa, I know this is selfish but I don't want to let him go. If you could just see this kid. There is so, so much wrong that happened to him. You see it all over him. I don't even know if a normal family can deal with him right away. Okay that is me just justifying wanting to keep him but… he, he's hurt. And I can't stand that."

Melissa sighed and said, "Well since I get home around the same time you do today, why don't you both come over for dinner? Bring Scott with you because he had said he was going over to your house and I couldn't think for what but now I think he was going to hang out with Stiles."

"Most likely," said the Sherriff. He sighed and said, "Thanks I think I will and thank you for listening."

"No problem," said Melissa, "This affected all of us, you know. I grieved over that baby boy very much myself."

The Sheriff smiled sadly and said, "I know. It helps to have friend you can go too."

"Yes, it does," she agreed, "Hey, cheer-up everything is going to be alright, okay? We'll get through this."

"Thank you," he told her again and took his leave.

* * *

When the Sherriff got back from work Scott and Stiles were sitting on the living room floor playing Uno. He blinked in surprise and then said, "Hey Scott, Stiles."

"Hey Mr. Stilinksi," said Scott waving cheerfully at him. Stiles, to his surprise, gave him a grin and then dropped a +4 on Scott and proclaimed:

"Uno!" he dropped his other card in the pile and grinned at Scott's crestfallen look. Scott dropped the rest of his sizable hand onto the pile in disgust and said mournfully to the Sherriff:

"This is the fifteenth time I've lost."

The Sherriff's eyebrows raised and he said diplomatically, "Well card games weren't always your forte, Scott."

"He won at dominoes too," Scott said glaring at Stiles.

Stiles shrugged unapologetically and said, "Well it's not my fault you can't match numbers, Scotty-boy."

Scott huffed and tackled him. Cards scattered across the living room and the Sherriff sighed at them. Inside though, he was half-elated, half-surprised that Stiles was smiling and laughing. The solemn boy from this morning had disappeared and in his place was someone resembling something like a normal teenager. Oh the pain was still there, but the light shone through.

The Sherriff was surprised and glad that Scott seemed to have been able to make it a little past Stiles' walls. The friendship looked like it might prove good for both of them.

He watched the still wrestling boys and noticed that even thought they were totally engrossed in their fight that Scott took especial care not to pin Stiles for too long and Stiles didn't press on Scott's chest and deliberately relaxed his muscles so that he wouldn't accidentally attack Scott. His suspicions about Stiles knowing how to fight were proven because it was obvious that he knew what he was doing when gapping but allowed many of his holds to slip or barely even complete them. It was equally obvious that Scott had picked up on the fact fifteen seconds into the fight and didn't take complete advantage of it. The Sherriff didn't remember Scott having that level of situational awareness. It looked like both of the boys did do each other well.

It eased a concern in his heart; that if the test did come back positive then Stiles would have a friend and the Sherriff would have an ally.

"Stop rolling on the floor both of you and pick the cards up," the Sherriff told them, "I'm going to shower and then we're all heading over to Scott's for dinner. Scott your mom invited us."

"Oh," said Scott sitting up and brushing some hair out of his face, "Oh cool," he said turning to Stiles, "You'll get to meet my mom."

Stiles seemed to shrink back at that thought but Scott gripped his shoulder and shook him and said, "Dude if you're trying to imply my mom isn't awesome…."

"What! No. Nononono! I-I didn't mean to imply anything of the sort. I am sure your mom is great!" Much hand waving accented his fast stream of words as Stiles attempted to backpedal.

"Great!" said Scott smiling, "Then I'm sure you won't mind meeting her!" Stile's shoulder slumped and there was pain on his face but he sighed and said:

"Yeah sure."

Scott gripped the back of his neck supportingly and said, "Thanks man."

Stiles looked up startled and then smiled softly and said, "No problem."

The Sherriff watched the exchange between then wonderingly and then rapidly amended his earlier assessment. Scott hadn't gotten through a little of Stiles' walls, he had gotten through a lot. And Stiles had let him. They had gone from meeting each other to BFFs in two days. Heck, less than two days. They had met the evening before. Scott had apparently learned to read Stiles and learned (and was apparently still learning) how to handle his moods and doing a fair job of it. Stiles, strangely enough, seemed to be something solid for Scott. A pillar in the midst of Scott's wildness, though the Sherriff couldn't figure out what gave him that image because Scott was one of the least, 'wild' kids he had known. He was a little mischievous yes, but not overly so. He shook his head as he headed upstairs and wondered if he was just too tired.

* * *

_Stiles POV_

It wasn't that I didn't want to meet Scott's mom. It's just that….the whole family thing…one parental figure I could handle, two seemed to be too close…family dinners hit too close to _home_. But Scott wanted me to meet his mom and I'm sure his mom wanted to see me. So off to Scotty-boy's I go. The things I do for him.

Scott's house was large and blue. For some reason it suited him. We entered into the house without knocking and Scott yelled out:

"Mom! We're here!"

"I can heal that," she returned, amusingly and her voice was warm and motherly. The warmth it inspired punched me in the gut. _Dammit Scott! _I fought the urge to gasp as if I'd been sucker punched and shored up my wobbling knees.

I followed after Scott to the dining room and finally connected the face to the voice. Scot's mom was beautiful. Dark wavy hair framed her angular face, her eyes were dark and almond-shaped, she had warm brown skin and the resemblance to Scott was noticeable. She had a wide, sunny smile. Something she and Scott apparently had in common also. She carried a warm, compassionate but efficient air about her. She reminded me of one of them, one of my family, who had a wide smile and that same compassionate, efficient air about her too. Tears welled up and I blinked them back furiously. I did not need this. I took a deep breath in to try and steady myself but only succeeded in letting the suppressed sob out. Half of me was being torn apart, the other half of me was busy being angry about letting it show.

Both Scott and his mom noticed. So did the Sherriff at me back. I pushed past him and ran back out the house. Scott caught up with me in the middle of the yard.

"Hey," he said. He reached out a hand but didn't touch me. I appreciated the gesture and came to stop. I hadn't planned on going far after all.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I shouldn't have insisted." I could hear in his voice that he was trying not to feel offended about the fact that his mom made me cry.

I let the tears slide out silently for a few moments and then scrubbed at my face for a few moments. "Is she a doctor?" I asked Scott.

"Huh?" he frowned. He blinked a few times and then said, "She's a nurse. Why?"

"Oh," I said, "It's just…she reminded me of one of them, one of…one of my pack." I hiccupped a little and then added, "She was like a nurse too. More of an EMT than anything and it's just, they similar. It just hit me so hard. I didn't…" I trailed off.

"Oh," said Scott, "Oh man, I'm so sorry. I didn't know." He hesitantly closed the space between us and when I didn't move, wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I buried my face in his shoulder for a moment and just breathed because Scott was Scott and that made everything kind of bearable.

I pulled away after a few moments and took a deep breath. "We should get back," I said, "I'm making dinner get cold."

"Dude are you sure?" said Scott, "You could go home if you want to. I'll even come with you. That way we can order pizza and watch whatever we want."

I shook my head. There was no way I was going to make myself even more of a problem, never mind the fact that I wanted to sink into the grass instead of going back inside and facing everyone for the entire meal.

* * *

_Melissa POV_

Melissa McCall watched her son comfort the sad, broken boy and wondered when was the last time she had ever seen Scott act so gentle and caring to something that wasn't an animal. It wasn't that Scott wasn't a great kid but there was a reason he was planning to be a vet rather than a doctor or nurse. But then, looking at Stiles, she understood why Scott found it easy to interact with Stiles. The boy was like a wounded, hyperactive, hyperaware animal. One that obviously trusted Scott.

She watched as they made their way back to the porch and then glanced at the Sherriff. His face was pinched with sadness and guilt and anger. Hurt for the boy poured out of him. She sighed. Damn this was going to be hard.

She stepped forward as the two boys came up the steps and held out her hand to Stiles. He flinched a little but reached out to take it. She shook his hand firmly but gently and said, "It's nice to meet you Stiles. I'm Melissa."

Stiles swallowed and without looking at her face said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean too. I-It won't happen again…"

He probably would have continued but Melissa interrupted gently, "Hey, it's okay. I'm not offended or anything. You just take all the time you need honey. If you want to go back home that's okay too. I'm sure Scott wouldn't mind going back with you."

Stiles shook his head. "I'll stay. And I-It's not you. You just, just, reminded me of someone. She was an EMT. And it's just, you're similar. I'm sorry; I totally didn't mean to do this."

"It's okay," she said quickly, "We absolutely don't mind." She lowered her voice to a stage whisper and added humorously, "In fact between you and me, I'm glad you're getting Scott to express a little compassion for human beings. He's usually hopeless unless it's an animal. Then he's cooing over them like a mama-bird."

Stiles' melancholy broke abruptly with a snicker at the statement. No doubt he was visualizing Scott as a puffed up mother bird leaning over her nest of chicks. Good, that was good, and if that had been her intention no one had to know.

"Mom!" Scott protested but he was smiling in relief.

Melissa just gave him a winning smile and said, "Come on boys, let's get dinner while it's hot. If you'll come with me Stiles I'll tell some stories about Scott that will leave him red for the whole night."

"Mom!" he sweet darling protested again, already blushing, "Don't forget I have ammunition too!"

"What ammunition?" She threw back at him.

"Don't make me pull up all those failed dates!" Scott threatened laughingly.

Melissa snorted, "Try that and you'll be making your own lunch tomorrow."

"Mom!"

Stiles snickered.

* * *

_**I hope I got Melissa okay.**_

_**R&amp;R Please!**_


	7. The Weekend 3

**Yea! The final chapter for this sub-ep. I hope you all are enjoying it so far. Thanks to my reviewers! You all make me happy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

_Stiles POV_

Today was the day. Today was the day when we found out if the Sheriff was my father for real or not. I tried not to think about what would happen if he wasn't. I mean I would leave, but I didn't want to. I wanted to stay here and there was no way that I could. I slept some Saturday night but was up way before the sun on Sunday morning.

I tried to surf the net but that didn't help, pacing didn't either, I wasn't hungry. I wanted to sit still and I wanted to move. Finally I settled on doing my katas again. I was in the middle of one when Scott called around six. I raised my eyebrows at the fact that Scott was up so early and then answered the phone and linked it to my Bluetooth headset.

"Hey Scotty-boy," I answered, "'sup?"

"Hey," he answered back, "Just calling to, you know find out if you want anybody to come with you today."

I did actually but I didn't want anybody there more. "No," I said, "I've…this is something I gotta do for myself."

"Okay, I get it" said Scott. There was a pause and then he said, "If…if the results aren't what we want, you know, mom and I, well, we talked it over last night and…well….we have a spare bedroom and mom said she wouldn't mind someone to share recipes with."

I froze in the middle of my stance. "Wha…?" I breathed out and then coughed and had to blink a few times and said, "Scott you can't…"

There was an amused huff at the end of the line, "I'm pretty sure I can do what I want. And I'm pretty sure mom and I can do what we want with our house too."

"Scott," I tried again and knew he heard what I couldn't say, in my voice.

"Stiles," he said, "just… keep it in mind okay?"

"Sure," I croaked out.

"Cool. Good luck. I'll see you later."

I stayed frozen still for a few moments and then remembered I was supposed to be moving and shifted to the next stance n the kata.

I tried to understand what was going on. I mean I had met Scott _two days ago_ and Mellissa only last night and here they were offering their house to me. I couldn't understand it. Some part of me was wary, was looking for traps, because that part of me screamed that it had to be some sort of trap. Things didn't just go that well. The other part of me, the other part of me whispered that this felt right, that this was home, that the click I heard wasn't a round being chambered but the sound of a puzzle piece falling into place.

I didn't want to hear either of them.

"My name is Stiles," I said, drowning out my mind with the sound of my voice, "The time is 6:15, the day is Sunday. I am sixteen years old. I am a researcher and a profiler. My hobbies include hacking, reading and watching television. I speak four different languages beside my native English. I like curly fries and coffee. I have ADHD and I take Adderall for it. I don't have a favorite subject and my favorite colour varies depending on my mood. I am currently in the Sherriff's house in Beacon Hills, California. And I am hungry."

"Well, that's great," said the Sherriff through my door, "because I made breakfast."

I jumped, pulled open my door and stuck my head out and stared at him wide eyed. "Um, did you just, hear all that?"

"I came in on the 'your favorite color depends on your mood' part."

"Oh," I said and gave him a relieved chuckle-laugh. "Cool."

He gave me a look and said, "Well, you know, come down when you want."

"Ah, sure. I'll-ah- come down now. I'll come down now." I ran down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Smooth Stiles.

* * *

Breakfast was pancakes with maple syrup poured from a honey bear. I contemplated the bear. It didn't look all that happy. Maybe it didn't like holding maple syrup; maybe it would only be happy if it had honey. Of course the universe could pull a plot twist and the bear wouldn't be happy with the honey either and it could be planning to suicide bomb itself and destroy the people using it for such a degrading purpose and go into the afterlife triumphant. Or you know the company could have just a bad mould for the bear bottle.

"Stiles, you okay?" the Sherriff asked me.

"Huh? What?!" I stammered pulled out of my musings, "Oh yeah, I-uh- I was thinking about the bear."

The Sherriff looked understandably confused so I pointed to the honey bear. A look of enlightenment graced his features. Then it flowed away and his face turned serious.

"Stiles," he began uncomfortably.

And I just knew where this was going.

"No," I held up my hand. "Can we just do this and talk after? Please. I'd rather not… deal with anything unless I have to."

He fell silent and looked pained but he nodded. "Alright," he said. Breakfast was over. "Let's get this over with."

I nodded and tired not to let the wave of utter emotion flood over me. I took a few deep breaths and threw some adderall down my throat.

We got in the car in silence and drove all the way to the lab in silence. He parked the car and we got out. I was trying not to feel and tying to not know what he was feeling. That was working fairly well until he came around the car and said,

"Stiles," he paused awkwardly, "I just….I-ah dammit!" He reached out and pulled me into a hug. And he was warm and firm and steady, and, and _dad_. The warm feeling curled through me and home whispered in my ear. I hesitated and then hugged him back like I never wanted him to go. And I didn't. We finally broke apart and both tried not to notice the other swiping at their eyes.

When we had pulled ourselves together we walking into the lab waiting room and the Sheriff went to desk to tell them that we were here for the results. After a few more minutes a doctor in a white lab coat came out and gestured to us.

We went over to him and he handed the Sherriff the report. The Sherriff opened the report and read it and then staggered a little. I grabbed at him and the doctor smiled.

"Congratulations Sherriff Stilinkski, it's a boy." Then he turned to me and said, "It's nice to meet you Mr. Stilinski." I gaped at him and then turned to look at the Sherriff.

"Is it...?" I gasped, "I mean, are we?" He nodded at me tears filling his eyes and I grabbed away the report and read it for myself. It was true. I had found my father.

The Sherriff and I stared at each other and then we were both hugging and crying again.

* * *

_Sherriff POV._

There were no words to describe how he felt. In some ways it felt like I how he did when he saw Stiles for the first time after he was born. There was this relief, this heady giddiness that gripped him and a deep well of joy bubbled inside him. He had found his boy. His child. He had finally got him back, after so long.

All the hope he had been holding back from the start of this madness, he held back no more. All the fears flowed away. He hugged Stiles like there was no tomorrow. Stiles didn't seem to mind a bit.

After a few minutes they broke apart and wiped their eyes again and then Stiles said, "Can, can we go tell Scott?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, yeah I think we can go tell Scott."

He didn't even wait for the car to stop moving before he was out of it and running across the McCall's lawn yelling:

"Scott! Scott!"

Scott appeared in one of the front windows, saw him and grinned. He disappeared from the window and reappeared at the front door just in time to catch Stiles from tripping on the porch steps.

"Is it real?! Are you staying?" Scott asked gripping him excitedly.

"Yes and yes! I'm staying!"

"Awesome!" They charged into the McCall house without a second thought and went up the stairs like a set of wild animals.

The Sherriff reached the house at a more sedate pace and Melissa met him at the door. "So good news then," she said.

The Sherriff smiled, "The best."

Mellissa gave him one of her brilliant smiles and hugged him tightly. "I am so happy for both of you. Come on in. Let's celebrate with leftover pot-roast and popcorn."

Before the Sherriff could protest, Melissa had issued the same invitation to the boys. They ran down the stairs like wild animals.

Scott was grinning from ear to ear and Stiles was beaming. The Sherriff looked at his son and sighed and said with a smile, "Sure, why not."

* * *

_Stiles POV._

Unfortunately since the Sherriff was my father that meant he could decide to send me to school. Which he did. I hate school. Scott was happy of course, because now I would be with him, but still, I'm not sure even Scott is enough to take the horrible out of high school.

Unfortunately as well there were a lot of things to do legally. I mean my dad had to contact child services, hand in a report that this missing child had been found. He wanted to charge the Dwenners but I wouldn't tell him who exactly they were and since there were definitely ore than one family called the Dwenners it would take a long time before they were found. I just wanted all of that to go away and be in the past. I already had a story concocted up and I knew I could swing it if the Sherriff didn't give me away.

But all of that would take time and my dad didn't want me missing school, longer than I had too. He made some arrangement with the principle after he had explained the whole situation to him. The principal allowed me to come to school so long as the Sherriff presented all relative documentation as we got them.

It was in this final call in which the Sherriff was fixing up the final paperwork to enroll me into the school that he paused and then told the person on the other end that he'd call back. Then he put down the phone and looked at me and then said,

"Stiles, I- I don't want to push you but you need a last name to put on the paper work. You're welcome to Stilinski of course. It's yours but I didn't know if…."

He trailed off. I was glad that he asked though because he was right. I didn't, I couldn't take Stilinski. Not yet. It was mine, my right but it wasn't mine. The past flooded over me, voices and laughter and cries of pain and the million times I'd said my name, my full name, with pride. I couldn't take that now though. I was the last of them I couldn't bear to hear it, couldn't bear to bear it. I didn't think I was, was worthy enough to still wear it, when they were all gone, and I wasn't. So not that name. Never that name. I had lost too much, too much.

I swallowed hard. And closed my eyes. I didn't cry. I was too hollow. Too much.

"Lost," I said, "Stiles Lost. Because I've lost and I am lost."

I didn't see his face. I didn't see anything. After a moment I got up and left.

Before I closed my room door, I heard him on the phone.

"Yeah," he said, "Stiles Lost. That's his name."

* * *

_**R&amp;R Please!**_


	8. Second Chance at First Line 1

**Alright I'm back and hopefully here to stay. Sorry I took so long. But hopefully I'll be here to tide you guys over until 5B. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not Own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

_Scott POV_

Scott was sitting anxiously on the bench after school waiting for Allison to come out . Stiles was inside the locker room trying to get into the lacrosse gear.

"So what happened?" said Allison as she whisked past him, "You left me stranded at the party."

Scott hurriedly grabbed up his stuff and went after her.

"I-I know," he said apologetically, "And I'm really sorry I am, but…you're going to have to trust that I had a really good reason." He waited for Allison's response, to his totally not epic apology.

"Did you get sick?" she said half laughing.

"I definitely had an attack of something," he told her. Lycanthropy, he thought.

"Am I going to get an explanation?" she asked, pointedly, but yet somehow not hash.

"Can you just find it in your heart to trust me on this one?" he asked, knowing he could never give her an explanation.

Allison breathed in while she thought and Scott hyperventilated inside.

"Am I going to regret this?" she asked finally.

"Probably," Scott said, not finding it himself to lie to her on this when he had already lied to her.

She let out a little laugh at his honest answer.

"So is that a yes on my second chance?" Scott asked hopefully.

"Definitely a yes," she told him.

They were going to have a moment but were interrupted by a horn honking.

"That's my dad," said Allison as she spotted the car. "I'd better go."

He turned to leave when some instinct mad him turn back. He spun to see Mr. Argent close the car door and look at him. Scott had an instant flashback to the hunter in the woods. Mr. Argent was one of the hunters in the woods. Inside Scott froze while on the outside he acted on pure instinct, lifting his hand in a sort of wave.

Mr. Argent gave him the amused father smile and went around the car to the driver's seat. Inside the car Allison turned and saw him and smiled. Scott however was well and truly frozen and just stood there blinking in shock.

He didn't know how he made himself move but somehow he did.

* * *

_Stiles POV._

School was torture but interesting. There is nothing quite as horrible as being the new kid in school. I just introduced myself awkwardly to make Scott wince, though he tried to hide it, and sat down in a seat behind Scott gratefully.

Classes were okay, boring, kind-of. I got stared at a lot. I knew that was the territory when it comes to being a new kid. Allison saw me in the hall and gave me a knowing smile. She was after all the other new kid although with Lydia's help she didn't seem to be.

Scott, to his everlasting mercy, didn't have any classes with Allison that day and had to wait for her after school to give his epic apology. While he did that, though, I was in the locker-room trying to figure out how to put on all the lacrosse gear.

Scott had persuaded me to try lacrosse with him. He flat out insisted he needed the company. I tried to tell him no but he wouldn't budge. The things I do for him.

I finally managed to figure out how to get everything on via strange, scrupulous glances at other people. I was just heading to the back to get my lacrosse stick when I passed Scott who was apparently undressing. He dropped his shirt to the floor and then leaned against one of the shelves with a look of despair on his face.

Damn the Allison-apology hadn't gone well.

"Did you apologize to Allison?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said in a strange spaced out voice.

I frowned.

"Is she giving you a second chance?" I asked.

"Yeah?" he said, still in that strange voice.

"Yeah? Alight so everything good," I said and was about to leave. Maybe he was just stunned about his good luck.

"No," said Scott.

"No," I repeated.

"You remember the hunters?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, not sure where this was going.

"Her dad is one of them," he said.

I paused as my brain froze.

"Her dad?" I repeated.

"Shot me," said Scott.

"Allison's father," I repeated still in shock because seriously, Romeo and Juliet much?

"With a crossbow," said Scott his face, frowning as he took in what he was saying.

"Allison's father?" I repeated because part of my brain was still on repeat. The other part was busy running through everything I knew about the hunters in general. The_ other_ part was trying to mentally access wifi so that I could research the Argents.

"Yes her father!" shouted Scott. And then just rested there breathing after his outburst.

"Oh my God!" he said suddenly, eyes widening "Oh my God!"

By now I was well versed in noticing panic attacks. "Scott!" I said hurrying over to him, as he made strange noises, obviously giving over to utter despair. I tapped him in the face twice.

"Snap out of it. Hey, hey he didn't recognize you alright?"

Scott snapped out of it to think. "No. No, I don't think so."

"Does she know about him?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," said Scott as if the thought had now occurred to him. He gave me a deer in the headlights look. "I don't know. What if she does?" he said giving back over to utter despair.

Behind us the lacrosse whistle blew.

"Help me man!" he moaned.

"Okay, just…focus on lacrosse alright?" My own nerves about playing were well gone, "Take this," I shoved his clothes and equipment into his arms. "Take this. Just focus on lacrosse for now. That's all you're going to do okay?" That's all we were both going to do because if Scott had a hunter girlfriend, life was going to be hard.

"Lacrosse," Scott repeated as if it were a life line. "Lacrosse."

"Hey we go!' I said smacking him on the arm.

I left him there to get changed, almost tripped over the bench and went out to the field because if I was late the coach, who was already making an exception for me because my dad had spoken to him, might decide to cut me from the team and Scott would probably expire right there and then. I snarled.

* * *

Lacrosse was worse than school. Due to my training I didn't die of exhaustion. Due to my innate clumsiness, I almost died tripping over everything. It didn't help that I was trying to keep an eye on Scott the whole time, while training to play a game I had never played before.

After half an hour of evil the coach blew his whistle and said, "Let's go. One on one's from on top. Jackson take a long stick today."

Jackson-douchbag- picked up the long stick and gave a sort of salute with it.

"Atta boy," said the coach.

The next few minutes were spent watching Douchebag beat the other players. I watched the action with one eye and kept the other on Scott who was severely spacing out. Great.

_Lacrosse Scott! _I mentally urged him. Unfortunately we hadn't developed mind to mind communication yet and I was too far away from him in the line to help. I watched helplessl_y _as Scott's turn came up to go against douchebag.

"McCall," said the coach, "What are you waiting for?"

Scott snapped out of his head and readied himself to go against Jackson. Watching his run towards Jackson was like watching someone jumping off a castle to fall on the ramparts. He crashed and died. I winced for him. That's not going to do anything good for Scott's control right now.

I winced for him.

"McCall! Hey McCall!" said the coach laughingly.

"Sure you still want to be first line McCall?" Douchebag smirked at him.

"My grandmother can move faster than that," Coach told him, still half-laughing, "And she's dead." He was all up in Scott's face by now. "Do you think you can move faster than the lifeless corpse of my dad Grandmother?"

"Yes coach," said Scot softly. I could tell he was trying to keep his temper.

"I can't hear you," said Coach.

""Yes coach!" said Scott louder. I could hear the tonal differences that screamed _Not Good_. I prepared myself to run and tackle Scott if need be.

"Than do it again," Coach told him.

Oh this is not good. I wondered whether or not if I should just grab Scott and run instead. Scott would no doubt not thank me though. I eyed him carefully and he seemed to be holding it together.

"McCall's going to do it again! McCall's going to do it again!" singsonged Coach as Scott ran back to the head of the line.

Douchebag readied himself and I could see Scott's focus in very line of his body. The whistle blew and then he was off running towards douchebag. They crashed and then Douchebag was falling backward holding his shoulder and Scott was off to the side holing his head and dropping to his knees.

I ripped off my helmet and then ran to him while the rest of the team surrounded Douchebag.

"Scott?" I asked grabbing onto his shoulder and trying to see his face.

He took a few breaths and then said hoarsely, "I can control it Stiles it's happening."

"What? Right here Now?" I asked rapidly although it was obviously was. I could see the signs.

"Okay. Come on get up."

I picked him up and guided him across the field past Derek Freaking Useless Hale. I mentally flipped Derek the bird and then concentrated my energy on getting Scott to the locker room which should be empty.

The trip to the locker room felt like it took forever. Luckily it didn't and we burst into the happily empty room, almost falling down in the process.

"Come, here we go," I said as we reached the room and Scott threw off his gloves and braced himself against the wall, making alarming wheezy-growl noises.

"Scott you okay?" I asked worried that he might have a psychosomatic asthma attack.

His head shot up and he yelled "Get away from me!" With what was probably his last bit of control because his eyes were yellow and afraid and fierce.

I moved. I fall backwards and scrambled away from him and then got to my feet and put a row of lockers between us but Scott simply jumped on top of the lockers.

I feel my heart pounding and flashbacks try to come on but I pushed them away. Hello PTSD life and death situation here. Really a bad time.

I scrambled away from the lockers clumsily and my back hit the wall lockers and I instantly slid along them to try to get my back free. Scott roared at me. I lost my footing and went down on hands and knees but pushed myself up and forwards and made it to the equipment lockers and looked around wildly for Scott who took to the rafters for a better view and striking position.

I ran from my position, almost tripping over the long bench and made for the door; Scott roaring and following me.

Once upon I time I reflected bitterly (and somewhat hysterically), I could have taken on someone like Scott without much trouble. But that was another life. But by the looks of things, this one may be just as short. If I get killed by Scott I will go into the afterlife laughing at the irony.

I turned to look for Scott and backed into the fire extinguisher by the door.

Bingo!

I grabbed the fire extinguisher and fumbled with it mentally chanting, 'P. A. S.S.' Scott jumped from the rafters to the top of a row of lockers. I finally got the pin out and aimed at Scott as he jumped from the lockers to the ground.

The cold white foam hit him and he was instantly confused and spent a few moments just wildly swinging around in the spray and growling. I kept the spray on him, until he calmed a little and collapsed into a bench, hoping the cold would snap him out of it.

When he collapsed I went around the corner of the door ready to hit him again should he still be out of control.

After a bit I heard and confused, hoarse voice go, "Stiles?" I peeked around the corner to see Scott sitting on the bench, helmet off , looking utterly confused.

"What happened?" he asked me, frowning.

I dropped the fire extinguisher and pulled off my clunky lacrosse gloves.

"You tried to kill me," I told him and then went over, sitting so I could look at him in the face.

"It's like I told you before. It's the anger. It's your pulse rising. It's a trigger." I tried not to think about my own triggers.

"But that's lacrosse," Scott told me matter-of-factly, "It's a pretty violent game if you hadn't noticed."

"Well," I said honestly, "It's going to be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field. You can't play Saturday. You're going to have to get out of the game."

"But I'm first line," Scott protested.

"Not anymore," I told him sighing. "At least until you get some sort of control."

Scott gave me a horrified look and then sighed. Then he looked guilty.

"I'm sorry," he told me heartfeltly, "You told me to set you as a line and I didn't." Then he looked horrified. "And I attacked you! I tried to kill you. Ohmygosh! Stiles. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" I assured him but he grabbed my face in his hands and stared at me in the eyes like he was trying to read my soul. It was only then that I under stood what it was he was really asking.

"I'm fine," I told him more gently. "The adrenaline keeps it at bay"

"But I'm your friend, "He said miserably, "I'm not supposed to hurt you, especially like this. You should…"

"So help me Scott if you say I should leave I will beat you with your own lacrosse stick."

The joke didn't help.

I sighed. "I'm fine. I understand. And I don't think I'll let myself get killed okay. So don't worry."

He searched my words for any hint of a lie and then sighed and nodded.

"Okay."Then he frowned and said, "hey how come you didn't fight me. I know you can. I know you probably can take me out if you wanted to."

I gave him a bitter grin and said, "Psychosomatic stuff. I can do the katas but I can't fight. And even the katas I have to do really slow." I shrugged. "I just can't."

He stared at me worriedly again and I clapped him on the shoulder startling him. "Relax. Like I said I don't I'll let you hurt me." I hope.

He gave me a little grin and then said. "But you're sure you're okay right?"

"Yes," I told him rolling my eyes, "The one you should be worrying about is Douchebag. You hit him pretty hard."

"Oh right!" said Scott. "Do you think he's okay?"

"Wouldn't be bothered if he wasn't, "I said Cheerfully as I got up and held my hands to Scott.

He grabbed them I pulled him up.

"Wouldn't be bothered at all."

* * *

_**R&amp;R Please!**_


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